Page 44 of Tangled

He braced himself with his hands on her back, gasping as sweat rolled off his cheekbones and nose and dripped onto her.

Jesus,hewas trembling now.

Tristan pulled out and with shaking hands got rid ofthatcondom.

Colleen collapsed onto her side, sobbing with frustration and punching the pillow.

Through the semi-conscious haze, Tristan scooped up the fuzzy blanket from the mattress and wrapped her up in it, and then he cuddled her against his side, blinking as he tried to clear his sight.Damn,his heart was stillracing.

She snuggled more tightly against his ribs, and Tristan tightened his arms around her, rocking her. “There, there, little one,” he murmured in a steady, soothing patter. “Such a good girl, taking your punishment so well. I’m so proud of you.”

He continued praising her and stroking her hair for what felt like hours as the room darkened with the sunset outside the blinds.

“You’remygood girl now,” he told her. “You’remylittle.Mineto touch anywhere I want, and mine to show the world. Mine to take, and mine to adore.”

She had opened her eyes and was watching him, listening intently, her dark eyes as fathomless as the deepest part of the ocean.

He asked her, “What do you say?”

Her lower lip trembled. “Yes, sir.”

“I’ll take you to Paris and Rome and Monaco, and I’ll take you to Singapore, Tokyo, and Sydney. We’ll dance at Carnival in Venice and Rio, and we’ll ski in Gstaad and Argentina. And everywhere, I’ll bend you over the couches and take you, and I’ll tie you to beds in New York and Cape Town and Cairo and have you.”

She was blinking as she listened, and she whispered, “Yes, please.”

He ran his fingers down the side of her face. “You’reminenow. You will speak well of yourself atalltimes. You areprecious.You aremineto cherish and protect. When you speak badly of yourself, it reflects onme.I won’t allow it. No onewilleverspeak badly aboutmygood girl again,not even you.”

A tear swelled on her damp eyelashes, and she whispered, “Yes, sir.”

“And if you defy me again, I’ll deny you orgasms for a week and lend you to my friends to use, and then I’ll take you to a club, tie you to a St. Andrew’s cross in the middle of the main floor, and torture you with thirty orgasms in a row until you are sobbing and begging me to stop.”

Colleen’s eyes had brightened, and she bit her lower lip. “Yes, please.”

Damn,that had been supposed to be an empty threat. What was it that Micah had said? That happiness was a woman two notches freakier than yourself?

Tristan had better get a personal trainer and do some cardio. This woman might be the death of him.

But what a way to go.

He stood up and carried Colleen to her tiny bathroom, where he washed her body, and then he took her back to bed. Their supper had arrived, so he wrapped her up in another fluffy blanket and fed her bites of steak with an excellent pan sauce, potatoes, and more.

And wine. He held the wine glass as she sipped the Bordeaux, and he kissed her wine-pink lips.

They slept entwined, exhausted, and Tristan put the thoughts of coding out of his mind for the night.

Good girls weren’t brats, but all subs needed focused attention, and Tristan loved turning his laser focus to a soft, flower-scented woman. He slept so well, drifting in and out of sleep and rearranging her lovely, curvy limbs to wrap himself around her.

At eight o’clock, pounding on the door slammed through the apartment, sending shock waves through his very cells.

“What’s that?” Tristan grumbled as he sat up.

Sunlight streamed through the horizontal slats over the window.

Colleen pulled a long tee-shirt and shorts over her bare skin. “I’ll get it. Don’t get up. It’s probably Anjali again. She probably needs to borrow something else or talk about Jian or something.”

She trotted over to the door, flipped the locks, and opened it.

A man was standing outside.